


Personal Stuff

by squadrickchestopher



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Bucky Barnes, Romance, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Waxing, bucky barnes cant take a hint, naked yoga incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher
Summary: “Hair removal,” Clint clarifies, adjusting one of his hearing aids. “I don’t like body hair. Ever since the circus days. Gets in the way and catches on things and it hurts.” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up worse than usual, and sighs. “I used to do it myself, and then I found a place I liked that would do it for me, but they’re closed today. And I don’t know when we’ll get a break again, because the missions have been crazy recently, so I figured I would just buy some strips and—" He gestures again.Understanding hits Bucky like a freight train. “You’re waxing your chest,” he says.“Trying,” Clint says. “I forgot how much it sucks to do it yourself. A lot easier when someone else can just rip it off real fast, you know?” He tilts his head at Bucky, an unreadable look in his eyes. “Care to volunteer as tribute?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 39
Kudos: 291





	Personal Stuff

Bucky has been to Clint’s apartment seventeen times in the last two weeks, but this is the first time the door has been locked. He scowls at it and kicks the door, hands occupied by coffee cups. “Clint,” he calls. “It’s Bucky. Open up.”

“I’m busy,” comes a yell, and that’s also unusual, because Clint doesn’t normally care about people seeing him do things in his apartment. Last week Bucky walked in on him doing _naked yoga_ , for god’s sake, and Clint had just shrugged him off like it was no big deal. And maybe it wasn’t for him, but Bucky had blushed like a fire hydrant until Clint had relented and put pants on. Bucky’s not shy about bodies, but there was just _something_ about the lean, lithe way Clint had rolled himself into downward dog that had almost done him in.

“I brought you coffee,” he says through the door, shaking off the memory. He does _not_ need a boner right now, thank you very much.

There’s a pause, and then a loud “Fuck!” that makes Bucky very concerned until he hears footsteps padding his way. The lock clicks, and Clint’s scruffy head pokes around the door. “Thank you,” he says, sticking a hand out. His arm is still covered in band-aids. Little remnants of their last mission. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me six,” Bucky corrects, handing the cup to him. “I’ve brought you coffee every day this week.”

“I didn’t _ask_ you to,” Clint says, and Bucky winces.

“Not what I meant. Can I come in?”

“No.”

“What are you doing?”

Clint’s face flushes a little bit. “Personal stuff.”

“Oh.” Bucky bites his lip. “Okay. I’ll go.”

There’s an awkward moment, where they both bite back the things they really want to say, and then Bucky turns around to leave.

“Hang on,” Clint sighs, and he pushes the door open. “Wait. Bucky.”

Bucky pauses. “Yeah?”

“I could use some help,” Clint admits, and Bucky turns around to see him shirtless, multiple strips of something attached to his chest. Bandages, he thinks at first, but they’re too thick to be bandages, and they’re blue. “I usually go somewhere to get this stuff done, but the salon is closed, and I figured I’d try it myself.”

He shoves the door open, an invitation, and goes back into his apartment. Bucky hesitates for a moment, then follows. He kicks the door shut behind him and sets the coffees on the table. Clint picks his up and takes a sip.

“They’re hot,” Bucky says mildly, snickering at the way his eyes bulge a little bit.

“Uh-huh,” Clint says, swallowing anyway. Bucky watches his throat work, thinking vaguely that he’d like to run his tongue along all that smooth skin and see what it tastes like.

He picks up his own coffee instead and pulls off the lid to let it cool. “Uh. So what’s this about?”

“Well,” Clint says, setting the cup down. “I’m…” he struggles for a second, then waves a hand. “Manscaping, I guess. I don’t know what to call it.”

Bucky frowns. He’s heard of the term, but he’s not very sure what it means. “I don’t get it.”

“Hair removal,” Clint clarifies, adjusting one of his hearing aids. “I don’t like body hair. Ever since the circus days. Gets in the way and catches on things and it hurts.” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up worse than usual, and sighs. “I used to do it myself, and then I found a place I liked that would do it for me, but they’re closed today. And I don’t know when we’ll get a break again, because the missions have been crazy recently, so I figured I would just buy some strips and—“ He gestures again.

Understanding hits Bucky like a freight train. “You’re waxing your chest,” he says.

“Trying,” Clint says. “I forgot how much it _sucks_ to do it yourself. A lot easier when someone else can just rip it off real fast, you know?” He tilts his head at Bucky, an unreadable look in his eyes. “Care to volunteer as tribute?”

Bucky blinks. “You want me to wax your chest for you?”

“I kind of already started,” Clint says. “If you wouldn’t mind just ripping the rest off.”

Huh. Bucky’s seen some weird shit since joining the Avengers, but this is new. “I…I guess?”

“You don’t have to,” Clint says quickly. “If it’s too uncomfortable for you. I can cuss my way through it.”

“No,” Bucky says. “Uh. It’s okay.”

“Great.” Clint sits on the table and carefully moves his coffee out of harms way. “Okay. So basically just grab and pull. Don’t count. Just yank it off.”

“You don’t have that much hair,” Bucky says, putting his flesh hand at the edge of one of the strips. He wonders if Clint can feel the electricity arcing between them, or if it’s just him. “Why bother doing this?”

“Because it’s either this or rip it out in pieces with medical tape,” Clint says, gripping the table edge. “Which is worse, in my opinion.”

“Wouldn’t be so bad if you quit putting yourself in the line of fire,” Bucky murmurs, peeling the edge up.

“Someone’s gotta save your ass.” Clint grins at him, cocky as usual, but there’s an underlying tone to it that Bucky can’t quite read. One of his hands comes up, smooths over a bruise on Bucky’s face that’s just barely hidden by stubble. “Can’t let this beautiful face get beat up.”

Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Uh.” It hits him, suddenly, just how close he and Clint are standing, and how when Clint is sitting like this they’re almost the same height, which means all he has to do is lean forward—

Clint pulls his hand away, that _look_ still in his eyes, and grips the table again. “Do it.”

For a moment Bucky’s brain blanks, and he thinks Clint means to kiss him _._ But then he suddenly remembers the wax strip, and how his fingers are still curled around it, and he blinks himself back to reality. “Ready?”

“Just—“ The words are cut off by a muffled groan as Bucky yanks the strip hard, peeling the hair with it. Clint sucks in a breath. “Fu-uck.”

“Sorry,” Bucky says, looking down at the strip in his hand and then at the reddened skin where it just was. “I guess that hurts a lot.”

“Like a bitch,” Clint agrees. “But better than medical tape.”

Bucky reaches for the next one. “Do you need a minute?”

“No.” He winces. “Maybe.”

“Okay.” Bucky trails his fingers down the raw, reddened skin instead, highly aware of how Clint shudders under his fingertips. “I like this,” he says softly, and he’s not sure if he’s talking about the reaction or the way Clint looks. Both, probably.

“Like a fresh baby dolphin,” Clint agrees, and Bucky lets out a very undignified snort. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Bucky grips the next one. “Three—“

“Don’t count,” Clint interrupts, so Bucky abandons it and just pulls. Clint hisses in another breath, eyes closed and head tilted back. _Gorgeous,_ Bucky thinks, watching him. _Absolutely perfect._ He wonders if he could make Clint look like that through some _other_ means, like with his hand or his mouth or his—

Clint’s eyes open, and he’s staring at Bucky. His lips quirk to one side. “Whatcha thinking about?” he asks, voice low. His tone is innocent, but his expression says very clearly that he knows _exactly_ what Bucky is thinking about, and it’s amusing the hell out of him.

Bucky thinks about making a joke. Something to lighten the mood, break the tension. Resume the usual status quo. But then Clint’s head tilts to the side, and he leans a little closer, and Bucky loses all the self-control that he’s barely been clinging to anyway.

He meets Clint halfway, gentle at first. Exploring. A little press with his lips, a little tongue, and then the kiss turns hungry. Possessive. Clint grips at his hair, pulls Bucky closer with his legs, slides his other hand up underneath Bucky’s shirt and digs in with just the right amount of hurt. Angles his head and scoots to the edge of the table. Bucky can feel him growing hard against his thigh.

They pull apart, both gasping. Clint lets out a shaky laugh. “Fucking _finally_ ,” he says, breath warm against Bucky’s face. “Christ, I thought you were _never_ gonna take the hint.”

“You were hinting?” Bucky asks dumbly, and then he thinks about the past few weeks, and the naked yoga incident, and he blushes hard. “Oh. I guess I missed it.”

“Uh, hello,” Clint pants against his mouth. “I was doing naked yoga. I basically _offered_ my ass to you when you walked in the door. How did you miss that?”

“I’m not real good with this kind of stuff,” Bucky admits. “I, uh. I just thought you were doing Hawkeye things. You’re kind of a weird guy, you know.”

Clint snorts. “Well. You have a point.” He kisses Bucky again. “I will use my words, then, like a big boy. Nat would be so proud of me.” He pulls back and takes Bucky’s face in his hands. “Bucky Barnes, I think you are the most attractive and amazing man to ever walk this earth, and I would very much like it if you would take me to bed and fuck me until I can’t walk or see straight anymore.” He looks down at his chest. “After this is done, of course.”

Bucky stumbles over his words, torn between _oh god yes_ and _oh god fuck yes_ and eventually comes up with, “Uh-huh.”

“Eloquent,” Clint teases. “C’mon. Strip me so I can strip you.”

“That was _terrible_ ,” Bucky tells him, but he obliges, yanking off the last two strips and quietly laughing as Clint lets out a truly impressive string of curses. He presses his mouth to the reddened skin, tongue flicking over its warmth, and moves down to suck Clint’s nipple in his mouth.

“Aw, fuck,” Clint whimpers, fisting his hands in Bucky’s hair again. “Fuck, _fuck_.”

“So _impatient_ ,” Bucky says, pulling off and grinning at him. He feels so light, almost giddy, and he can't stop his hands from roaming over Clint's skin. “I have loads of other things I want to do to you first. You know how long I’ve been thinking about getting you naked?”

“Then stop talking and start doing,” Clint retorts, grabbing at Bucky’s shirt. “Get—get this shit off, c’mon—“

Bucky strips his shirt off, and drops his pants, and Clint wriggles out of his, and then they’re both naked. And it’s not like this is the first time they’ve seen each other, but there’s a gravity to _this_ situation that’s never been there before. Clint’s eyes are sweeping all over Bucky, from his legs to his cock to his metal arm, and there’s so much _want_ in his expression that Bucky almost comes right then and there.

“Spread your legs,” he tells Clint, and gets on his knees.

Clint’s mouth goes slack and he immediately opens his legs wider. Bucky smiles lasciviously at him and leans forward. “You want this,” he says.

“God yes,” Clint says. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Mm.” Bucky licks him, long and slow. Clint shudders and clenches his fists on the table. “How bad?”

“More than anything,” Clint says. “Fucking hell, I practically pop a boner every time I’m near you. Been dreaming about this for ages.” There’s a little hint of Iowa to his voice, something that usually only comes out when he’s sleepy, and Bucky loves it. “Please, _please_ , don’t stop.”

As if Bucky would. As if he could. He wraps his mouth around Clint’s cock and goes down. It’s been a little bit since he’s done this, but it’s kind of like riding a bike, and the memory of how to relax and swallow around him comes back easily. He thinks that it wouldn’t matter anyway if he was bad at it, because Clint is looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

Part of him wants to take this slow. To drive Clint wild and make him beg. But as soon as the first moan spills out, Bucky decides to just go for it. He wants Clint to come, wants to taste him on his tongue. He’s waited too long for this. They can do slow later.

So he goes deep again, licks his way back up, sucks at a spot just under the head that makes Clint shout and buck up into him. Takes his time exploring, seeing what gets the loudest reactions, and what just makes Clint shudder with ecstasy. It’s perfect, Bucky thinks. He could stay here and do this forever.

There’s a loud buzzing noise on the table, and Bucky frowns at it. “That your phone?”

“Fuck my phone,” Clint gasps, pushing up into his mouth. “Just—if you stop right now I will _kill_ you—“

Bucky laughs around him and pulls off. “You close?”

The phone buzzes again, more insistently, and Clint shoves it to the floor. “Yes,” he says, looking down at Bucky. “I’m gonna—“

“Yeah you are,” Bucky says roughly, wrapping his mouth around Clint once more. He sucks again, swirling his tongue around, and Clint yells as his back arches and he comes in Bucky’s mouth. He tastes perfect, like everything Bucky’s ever wanted, and Bucky just keeps going, working him through it until he lets out a long whine and collapses backwards on the table. There's a little “ow” as his head makes contact.

Bucky pulls off him with a wet _pop_ and stands up. He’s not sure the table will hold both of them, so he just contents himself with putting a hand on Clint’s trembling thigh. “That good for you?”

“Good?” Clint asks breathlessly. “Good? Fuck me, that was more than good. Good doesn’t even begin to describe it. That was…” he trails off, then throws an arm over his eyes. “There are no words.”

“You flatter me,” Bucky says, pressing a kiss to Clint’s abs. He’s hard too, almost painfully so, but he doesn’t want to touch himself. This is about making Clint happy.

The phone buzzes _again_ , and Clint sighs. “Give me that,” he says. “I swear to God if Nat’s calling me for some bullshit…”

Bucky hands him the phone and he squints at the screen. “Nat,” he says, answering. “Unless this is an emergency—“

“It is,” she says, voice sharp. “There are fish monsters on Fifth Avenue.”

Clint jackknifes up, almost whacking Bucky in the head. “I’m sorry, there’s _what_?”

“Fish monsters,” she says. “Fifth Avenue. Bring Barnes.” She hangs up.

Bucky stares at the phone, and then at Clint. “How did she know I was here?”

“She’s Nat,” Clint says, like that’s an explanation. It kind of is. “Okay. Fuck. This kind of ruins the afternoon.”

A little bit, but Bucky’s not going to complain, not after what just happened. He reaches for his pants. “We should go.”

“Fine,” Clint says, getting up. “We’ll deal with the fish monsters. And then we’re coming back here and picking up where we left off.” He dazzles Bucky with a smile, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Try not to get killed before I can return the favor, okay?”

Bucky snorts. “Okay.”

Twenty minutes later, they’re on Fifth Avenue, slicing and shooting their way through fish monsters. Bucky doesn’t know where they came from, and he sure as hell isn’t going to ask. He just pulls a knife in one hand and carries his rifle in the other and wades into the fray, stabbing and shooting. Twice, arrows come from out of nowhere and take out ones that are about to overwhelm him, and Bucky feels a little swell of warmth. Sure, Clint’s saved his life before, but now there’s a little _extra_ in his voice as he says, “Watch your six, Buck.”

“That’s what you’re up there for,” Bucky tells him.

“Oh, I’m definitely watching. Mostly because those pants make your ass look fabulous.”

On comms, Natasha laughs. “I’m very happy for you two,” she says. “But save the flirting until we’re done, okay?”

“They’re flirting?” Steve asks, grunting as he throws his shield.

“They’re fucking,” she corrects.

“Not yet we haven’t,” Clint says, and Bucky is already turning red. “So nobody let him get killed. I have plans for him later.”

“Knock it off,” Bucky tells him, but he can’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Focus,” Steve says, sounding ever like the exasperated parent. “There’s another wave coming.”

“Oooh, fish puns. Nice.”

“Clint!”

The wave comes, but it’s smaller than the others, and they handle it easily. Steve and Tony take the lead on capturing whatever asshole started this whole thing, and Clint abandons his perch, coming down to join Bucky on the ground for perimeter patrol. “Gross,” he says, nudging a dismembered fish head with his foot. His shirt is torn, newly hairless chest on display. “Never eating tuna again.”

“Nope,” Bucky agrees, but he’s more focused on Clint’s mouth, and how much he wants to kiss it.

Clint gives him a sly look. “Give it a minute,” he says. “I wanna take you home first. I’m not planning on getting interrupted this time.”

“Fine,” Bucky says reluctantly. He shoots a fish monster that’s struggling to crawl away.

Above them, there’s a whine of repulsors, and a metal figure lands in front of them. “Everything looks clear,” Stark says, and then he tilts his head at them. The helmet flips back. “Uh, pardon the personal nature of the question here, but did you _wax_ your chest?” He gestures to Clint’s ripped shirt and shiny, reddened skin underneath.

“Yes,” Clint says, unashamed, picking at a few bits of stray wax. He winces as they pull off. “What, you like ripping band-aids off chest hair? Fucking hurts. At least this way it’s all done with.”

“Huh,” Stark says thoughtfully, like Clint’s got a point. “So you wax your chest, but you don’t shave your face?”

“Not all of us like the weird goatee vibe thing you got going on,” Clint says. “Personally, I like a little scruffy.” He scratches at his chin. “Makes me look tough.”

“Makes you look mangy,” Stark says.

Bucky shoves him. “Be nice. I like it.” Clint beams at him, and Bucky smiles back.

“Alright,” Stark says, not sounding the least bit offended that Bucky pushed him. “Well. I came to tell you that you guys are free to go, so…” He waggles his fingers at them. “Shoo. Scram.”

Clint unstrings his bow and puts the arrow back in his quiver. “You don’t need us for clean-up?”

“You won’t be any help,” Stark says. “You’re making eyes at each other right now instead of patrolling like you’re supposed to. Get out of here and get it out of your system. We’ll see you at team dinner tonight.”

Clint grabs Bucky’s hand. “You’re the best,” he says to Stark.

“I know it,” Stark says magnanimously. “But thanks for saying it anyway.”

He flies away, and Clint immediately turns to Bucky. “Wanna get outta here and do some more...personal stuff?” He winks.

“God, yes,” Bucky says. “Let me ditch my rifle with Steve.” He presses a kiss to Clint’s mouth. “Wait for me, okay?”

“Always,” Clint says, and he leans against the wall, a lazy smile blooming on his face. “I’m not going a damn place without you ever again.”

Bucky’s heart swells, and he has to take a moment to breathe. “Okay,” he says, spinning on his heels, hiding his face for a moment. “Be right back.”

Steve sighs when Bucky shows up, but he takes the rifle without complaint and agrees to clean it and put it in storage. Natasha nudges him with a knowing smile. “Have fun,” she says. “Be good to him, okay? He deserves it.”

“Yeah he does,” Bucky says softly, thinking of the way Clint smiles, and how he’d come apart at Bucky’s touch, and how the sunlight catches his stupidly messy hair. “Don’t worry, Nat. I got him.”

“Good,” she says. “Go on then. He’s waiting.”

Bucky practically sprints back to Clint. “Let’s go,” he demands. He's still turned on from before, and the adrenaline of the fight isn't helping matters. “Right now. Before I lose it and fuck you in this alley.”

Clint laughs. “ _Now_ who’s impatient?” he teases. But then he wraps his arm around Bucky’s waist, warm and solid against him, and lets out a little contented sigh as Bucky does the same. “Alright, Buck. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a blog post from kangofu-cb on tumblr about Clint and his manscaping. I have no regrets about spending my afternoon writing this. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr!](https://feedmecookiesnow.tumblr.com/)


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